Tipping the Balance
by BukkakeNoJutsu
Summary: After losing everything, Guts gains the ability to change it all.  Slight crossover with Guyver.
1. A Sword Broken on the Battlefield

Tipping the Balance:

Chapter 1: A sword broken on the battlefield

By: BukkakeNoJutsu

Disclaimer: Berserk and all its associated characters belong to Kentaro Muira. The mysterious armor belongs to Yoshiki Takaya. I'm just playing in the sandbox

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Nothing ever hurt as much as seeing her beautiful brown eyes grow dull.

Guts felt the world crash to a halt as Caska's lifeless body hit the floor in two pieces due to a particularly nasty apostle in a sea of demons and soldiers.

Hope died in his throat and fucking Griffith was feeding off it.

He could not cry.

He could not scream.

And he could never, ever kill enough of them.

Rage enveloped his body in the form of the Armor of the Berserk, taking the visage of his darkest inner demon.

He became an uncontrollable doglike beast to fight on the same level as a greater apostle.

The demonic armor pinned his broken body together, as he swung a slab of rough iron again and again to cleave and to kill.

The cursed armor forced him to move past the physical limitations of humanity.

Even moving past the limitations of humanity was not enough.

They had only been hours away from the stronghold of the elves to cure Caska's madness, but an ambush by Griffith's forces lay in wait.

Guts had been so close to finding happiness again with Caska when the brand started bleeding uncontrollably.

The flyers came swiftly led by Nosferatu Zodd and followed by Griffith's elites on the ground.

They came by air without warning, without a chance to prepare or run.

Perhaps it was a reincarnated Griffith's ploy to secure his kingdom by annihilating dissenters.

Whatever the case, it was the ascension of Femto all over again.

There was no sign of Puck, Isidro, or Schierke.

Guts vaguely remembered shouting out an order for any survivors to retreat and regroup, and also hearing the screams of Farnese and Serpico.

He sincerely hoped they had listened to his command as he felt the darkness overtake him.

With sword and bare hands, he would kill anything that remained.

Apostles, men, the guilty, and the innocent.

With Caska gone, he would kill them all.

The armored figure far removed from humanity howled with delight.

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Guts awoke with the first rays of the sun, surrounded by a few dozen hacked-apart Apostles.

The Berserker's Armor hung from his broken body in pieces, as the pain flooded in.

The curse of the armor proved potent as Guts felt himself slowly bleeding to death.

He could not manage to lift the dragonslayer that lay on the ground or even sit up.

He turned his head to see what remained of the woman he loved and spotted her a few yards away.

The mortally injured soldier rolled onto his stomach and agonizingly started to crawl to Caska.

If he would die, he would then die at her side.

Tears rolled down his face as he made his way toward her, thinking about everything that had led up to this point.

Even though they were not fated to live happily together, Guts still loved her and never regretted that.

He thought of Godo's last words to him to not waste his life pointlessly. With her gone, he had.

Finally clutching Caska to himself, Guts resigned himself to his fate.

Suddenly, the air in front Guts shifted, stretched, and then tore as the Skull Knight and his mount appeared on the battlefield.

The monstrous figure surveyed his surroundings before speaking.

"Greetings, struggler. You have my condolences."

Guts glared at the Skull Knight.

"You're too late this time, you shiny bastard." Snapped Guts coughing up a significant amount of blood.

The Skull Knight even lacking a face managed to look sheepish.

"We are pressed for time struggler. I have struck a bargain with Outside Powers to crush the Godhand. They have given me a weapon that only one such as yourself can use. With it, you can sever the threads of fate and annihilate the Godhand and its apostles."

The armored figure reached into his cloak pulling out a small object, which he then tossed onto the black swordsman's lap.

Guts looked at the curious object.

It was circular, smaller than a buckler, but thick. It consisted of three dark red plates, three smaller strips of red material between each plate, and a central silver medallion embedded in a substance that almost looked like black muscle tissue. It was the same shade of blood rust red as Griffith's behelit.

Guts felt a chill down go down his spine as the object almost seemed to writhe in his hands.

"What the hell is this!?" exclaimed the dying man.

The Skull Knight looked on almost amused despite the circumstances.

"It is an otherworldly weapon designed to defeat unearthly forces, more powerful than the berserker's armor or even my own. The price of acquiring an object of power like this was high. I can feel it now. Hahahaha. Fare thee well, struggler."

The Skull Knight started to fade away and become immaterial.

"I hope once again to meet you, black swordsman. Use the Armor of the Guyver well…"

With that the Skull Knight and his steed vanished from the battlefield.

Guts glanced at Caska's lifeless form then back at the object in his hands.

"If only I had the power to set things right. I don't even know how to use this stupid thing." thought Guts.

As if in response to his query, the medallion on the object started glowing. The plates and tissues started to shift as the object seemingly broke apart and started to engulf him. All that Guts could think about was destroying the Godhand regardless of what kind of monster he became.

Guts blacked out once again knowing that, when he awoke, he would never be the same.

End Chapter 1

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This will be about a four/five chapter story.

Yes this is a slight crossover with Guyver. And yes, Griffith's fucked.

Comments & Criticisms welcome.


	2. Forged Anew

Tipping the Balance

Ch. 2 Forged anew

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Guts made his way to Elfheim, in hopes of finding survivors.

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He had awoken shortly after activating the weapon that the Skull Knight had given him. Guts found himself encased in dark red armor plates of an unknown make. Underneath the red armor plating was dark tissue the color of charred muscle.

The suit was as natural to his body as a second skin with no added weight or resistance. His senses felt expanded, and everything felt enhanced.

The armor felt alive.

Guts felt a brief stab of panic as he tried to find a seam to split apart or a hook to unlatch. The armor was seamless as if cast to fit only himself.

The dark-haired man grabbed at the armor on his left forearm to pry it apart and start to free himself, and the suit, listening to his mental command, dispelled, leaving him nude amidst the carnage left by his fight against Griffith's forces.

Guts stood in shock.

The armor had left drastic changes on his unarmored body. The swordsman clenched his fist, a fully intact left fist, and once again could see out of his right eye.

There were other changes that were subtler, but no less profound.

His scars and half-healed battle injuries were gone, leaving him healthier than before. Even his sword calluses were gone,, but he felt as strong and fast as ever.

He had wished for the power to combat the Godhand, and the unknown weapon had left his body in the prime of life as a result.

Most importantly, the dull, ever-present ache of the brand of sacrifice disappeared. Guts grabbed a shiny piece of broken steel armor on the ground to look at his reflection. The brand was gone, even the scar he received from Gambino was but a distant memory.

With the brand gone, he was no longer Griffith's sacrificial lamb.

Guts would be his executioner.

He knew that even though his body was healed, the worst scars were internal.

If he could have Caska back again, Guts would cast aside all these gifts and more. Time could not be turned back, however, so he had to press forward to survive. At his very core he was a struggler, a survivor.

Guts scanned the battlefield to scavenge some clothing from Griffith's fallen men.

In an area relatively free of corpses and obstructions, he went to test the armor briefly. Concentrating on grasping his newly found power, his form was instantaneously covered by the mysterious armor once again. Guts noted the crater at his feet and at the scattered debris, and took note of the forceful nature of his transformation.

He had to pay his last respects and hurry to find any survivors of his party.

Making a pyre for the remains he found of Farnese and Serpico, it only seemed fitting that he created a separate one for Caska. Cursed with the brand, he had no idea what would happen to her body if left intact.

He left Griffith's apostles and soldiers to rot in the sun.

Wrapping up the reformed pieces of his cursed armor in Serpico's enchanted cloak along with the blonde man's sword and his now useless prosthetic hand, Guts grabbed the Dragonslayer and started his search, running faster than he ever thought possible.

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Nosferatu Zodd took in the scene with a faint sense of disappointment.

After chasing the branded swordsman's allies for what felt like hours, he had given up the chase. The little witch had conjured some mysterious force to make good her escape, running away with a wounded child swordsman.

There was no sport in killing women and children.

Circling his way back to the battlefield, he spotted the struggler collapse due to mortal wounds. He felt like a carrion bird watching the dying man who had once been his fiercest adversary bleed out slowly and crawl towards the branded woman's body. He flew off.

There was no glory in killing a dying man.

As he flew off, Zodd briefly thought he felt the fleeting presence of his old enemy the Skull Knight, but brushed it off as wishful thinking.

Lord Griffith would be pleased to hear that the Black Swordsman's troublesome rebellion had been ruthlessly crushed.

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Back in Charlotte's bedchambers in Midland, Griffith reveled in his genuinely good mood.

The last of his sacrifices from the old Band of the Hawk were dead.

For the handsome silver-haired man, the situation held the same kind of emotion that finishing a long-savored gourmet meal did. It was all too bad it had to end. The tastes of madness and rage from Griffith and Caska were delicious. He knew that they were both dead, because their brands no longer provided suffering for him to feast upon.

Griffith considered pulling a similar stunt with the human members of his new Band of the Hawk. Maybe leaving a person or two alive and branded would provide him with an interesting diversion.

Now he considered it to be a straightforward affair to secure his kingdom on earth now that some annoying loose ends were tied up.

Griffith drew Charlotte into an embrace planning a glorious future.

He could not have been more wrong.

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Guts ran tirelessly and leapt incredible distances. He was much, much stronger in the armor than he ever dreamed of becoming.

He was powerful before, but now the effort of wielding the Dragonslayer, the massive sword forged by Godo, felt negligible.

While running, Guts tested his abilities by splitting thick trees in half, vertically and one-handed.

Massive trees a couple feet in diameter were being mowed down effortlessly.

It was almost ridiculous that he felt that his sword would wear out long before sword arm felt fatigued.

Suddenly, Guts, with his enhanced senses, felt something unnatural.

It was the presence of demons, and a lot of them.

Gut's grinned evilly under his armor.

This would be perfect.

End Chapter 2

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C&C welcome


	3. Sharpened to a Keen Edge

Tipping the Balance

Chapter 3: Sharpened to a keen edge

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Irvine, the eyeless commander of Griffith's demonic archers, tried to pin down the mysterious creature that continued to slaughter his troops wholesale.

His ground forces, consisting of possessed human cavalry and infantry soldiers, were mowed down like wheat being harvested.

As his archery unit approached the disturbance, its members passed mangled demonic corpses and slaughtered mounts.

Their viciously spilt entrails stained the ground Irvine and his remaining command continued to tread.

The few flying units under his command reported the enemy to be extremely swift dark red creature, possibly an elite Kushan apostle.

He sent them out again and they did not return.

At the center of a whirlwind of death and destruction, the mysterious demon stopped briefly, its dark red carapace the same hue as the lifeblood it spilled. The strangeness of the creature's alien and insect-like appearance was far overshadowed by the power and swiftness contained within its compact humanoid form.

To Irvine, the assailant was entirely unfamiliar but the weapon it wielded was unmistakable.

It was the massive sword of the branded swordsman. The same swordsman Griffith's forces were supposed to have assassinated just hours before.

Irvine commanded his archers to aim and fire on his signal. Irvine brought his own monstrous bow to bear and aimed its demonic red eye at the abomination.

He would not miss.

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Guts marveled at his new physical capabilities. Having spent all his life on the battlefield he was used to slaughter, but not as effortless as this.

The possessed humans moved as if mired in mud. Any stray weapons that happened to have glanced past his guard were turned away by his impossibly tough, chitinous armor.

When the flyers circling overhead dove down to attack, they were surprised when the bloody creature met them mid-air.

Guts jumped on the back of one such creature and decapitated and it only to launch off its back and split another in half vertically. He leapt again to tear a wing off the last flying apostle.

Bloody viscera rained down on the surviving ground forces.

When the one-winged creature spiraled to the ground, Guts speared it though the heart, pinning it to the ground, and tore off its head with his bare hands.

He threw the massive head like a cannonball, bowling some soldiers over, and killing a few of them.

He retrieved the Dragonslayer and continued his butchery.

Guts was not even winded.

As the vengeful soldier decimated the last of the ground forces, he sensed arrows incoming and pressed himself to dodge and block with his sword.

A stray arrow made it passed his impromptu shield to spear him between the armor plating of his left shoulder and chest.

Guts ripped it out forcefully, and were amazed to find it healing already.

"_It was even faster than Puck's magic." _thought the black swordsman with a hint of regret.

As Guts prepared to charge, the lead archer shot another impossibly fast arrow at his head. The other archers scrambled to follow his lead.

Before even dodging, a beam of green energy lanced from Guts' forehead incinerating the projectile, and continuing on to destroy part of Irvine's helm revealing sightless eyes.

The armor attacked of it own accord, to protect its user.

Guts knew that there were too many unknown factors when it came to his new body.

He would just have experiment.

Guts found that he could use the small blasts with pinpoint accuracy.

He destroyed their demonic bows, leaving the two-dozen or so archers weaponless, and in many cases handless, but alive.

Some started to panic, and to turn heel and run.

Others pulled out short swords, axes and maces.

Guts plunged his sword into the ground.

He wanted to do this by hand.

Grabbing one armored archer by the leg, Guts used him as a crude bludgeon until the leg ripped apart at the knee joint.

Irvine died screaming as the bloody creature tore open his ribcage and ripped out his heart, before pulping his head with its clenched fists.

There would be no survivors.

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Guts made his way to the Elfheim to meet King Hanafubuku. Passing a lush green forest, he came to a solitary, peaceful mountain.

He had long since dispelled the crimson armor, not wanting to draw undue attention to himself.

Shouldering his pack consisting of Serpico's weapons and his previous ones, he heard a familiar voice.

It was the joyful cry of a tearful Schierke, followed by a bandaged Isidro.

Along with them was a glowing mass of elves, one of which was an injured Puck with a torn wing.

Guts allowed himself a small, rare smile.

All was not lost.

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End Chapter 3

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C&C are welcome.


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